


Speaking to the Heart

by Salarka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salarka/pseuds/Salarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just random, fluffy drabbles about a variety of pairings in many fandoms- will update as more drabbles are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking to the Heart

“Do you love me?”

The words hung over Dorian, making his thoughts thunder in his mind, his own confusion and frustration forcing him to hide. He steps back, keeping his distance from Sir- from Adaar- not giving the nobles and courtiers any chance, any opportunity any more fire to gossip about the Inquisitor. 

Adaar doesn’t force him- and why would he? Ever since he met him, Dorian has never known him to be anything but polite, always diplomatic, always cordial. Well, almost… sometimes, in the dead of night, as Dorian pretends to sleep in his bed, he can hear Siraj… Adaar…. muttering to himself. If he lets his eyes slip open, he can see Adaar huddled over his desk, quill moving furiously as he worked. The soft grumblings, the scratching of his writing… that became Dorian’s lullaby, a soft collection of noises that lulled him to sleep, even calmed him. 

Still, that didn’t answer the question. Do you love me? Dorian knows, with instinctive fear, that Siraj does- he whispers it in his sleep, barely heard above his snores and the creaks of Skyhold- “I love you.” Soft, quiet, and unconscious. Dorian freezes each time he hears it, any chance of sleep gone for the hour. He gently traces his hand along Siraj’s chest, placing his palm to feel his heartbeat, and he trembles. He can’t help but be afraid. 

His own emotions… his worst enemy. His relationships had almost always been physical, spur-of-the-moment, one-night affairs that faded away as the sun rose. In the rare event it had lasted longer, it had been more… he had stopped it, made himself turn away before he could voice any emotion, any pitfalls. It was… safer that way. 

Now, however, in the dead of night, as he lays across the chest of a Vashoth, he feels… safe. Not whole, necessarily, but… safe. Home. 

It is in this moment, that Dorian makes his decision. 

He slips over slowly, so that his lips hover just above Siraj’s ear. Softly, so that only the two of them can hear, Dorian whispers. “Yes, I do.”


End file.
